


A Game of Thrones

by slashyrogue



Series: Tumblr Continuing AUs [14]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Arranged Marriage, Blood and Violence, King Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Murder Husbands, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Man, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Prince Will Graham, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyrogue/pseuds/slashyrogue
Summary: Prince Will Graham is horrified to be told he's been betrothed by his Father King Michael to The Wildling King Hannibal in order to stop the war between their kingdoms. His anger is nearly overshadowed by his duty and yet as their relationship progresses he finds himself drawn to the darkness that Hannibal brings.Can he stay true to himself and resist the hunger in The Wildling King's eyes?Or is he destined to become the bloodthirsty monster that Hannibal has been told he will be?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Tumblr Continuing AUs [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/466966
Comments: 86
Kudos: 287





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a current work in progress but I have had several chapters written and shared on my Tumblr for the past year.

There were plenty of people his father could have betrothed Prince Will to but of course he had to pick Il Mostro. The Wildling King known to regularly eat his enemies and had terrorized the Seven Kingdoms for decades. Who, according to the soldiers Will regularly sparred with, had no mercy for those he considered inferior. 

Will had no need for such a person in his life at all, let alone as his husband. He had many promising prospects for marriage and this betrothal would just not do. His father had simply gone mad he was sure of it. 

He headed into his father’s chambers with the proclamation in hand, his mind reeling from the words, and tried to calm himself. 

King Michael looked up from his desk. 

“Yes, my son?”

Will threw the letter down onto the table with a whack. 

“I will NOT do this. You cannot make me.” 

The King sighed. “Will...” 

“There are plenty of other ways to win the war. I am meant to be KING!” 

“And you will be,” his father promised, “With Hannibal as your King Consort.” 

The words made Will sick. 

“What about Princess Mollyana? Her father...” 

“Is not holding all the cards, Will. We both know this. If I give Il Mostro this promise, he will put down arms and join our houses. He is on his way here now to meet his intended.” 

Will felt like screaming. 

“And Winston?” 

The King smiled. “You will be kept here until the handfasting, and then join your husband in his home.” 

“Over the wall?” Will whispered. 

“Yes.” 

“Where they eat their enemies and sleep on bearskin rugs like animals? I cannot believe you would do this to me. I am your only son.” 

“And this is why I know it’s right.” 

Will grabbed the proclamation and tore it to shreds, the pieces falling into a mess all over the desk. 

“I will NEVER return here until you are DEAD. Do you hear me?” 

There was a sadness in his father’s eyes but Will had no need for it. He wanted to tear something apart, his anger was so great. Perhaps his direwolf Winston wanted to go hunting. 

“I hope that is not the case.” 

Will turned and fled his father’s chambers in a rush. 

When his monster of a betrothed came he would put an end to this once and for all. 

There was no way he would marry someone so beneath him. 

He walked straight out to the courtyard where the knights were busy training, the clinking of their armor music to his ears. His sword arm had not been used nearly enough as of late as he’d been too busy currying the favor of those he’d thought his father needed to secure the kingdom’s future. Now he hoped the courteous relationships they held with the vast span of families strewn about the Seven Kingdoms rotted on the vine. 

Will’s arrival caught the attention of the knights, most notably the head of the Kingsguard Ser Jack. Ser Jack had taught Will swordplay since he was just old enough to hold a sword but his smiling face did little to curb Will’s anger. Ser Jack’s face fell at the sight of his frown. 

“What has happened?” he asked, putting his hand on Will’s arm. 

“Father has betrothed me to a dirty Wildling,” Will hissed, “He---” 

Jack sighed. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I think the betrothal may perhaps be the most noble thing His Majesty has ever done.” 

Will stepped back and stared at him in shock. “Noble?!? My father has doomed me to a life of sleeping on the ground and living like a wild animal until his death and you deem that noble?” 

“Uniting the two kingdoms is the only way to curb the war that has been building beyond the wall. Il Mostro will not harm you. Despite the rumors, he is a strong fighter but fierce in the defense of his own people.” 

“I did not say he would harm me, Ser,” Will snapped, grabbing the sword from Jack’s hand, “I said he would force me to live beneath my station. I am NOT a wild bloodthirsty killer like him and never will be.” 

“There are always compromises in war, Will.” 

“Not my life, Ser, and that is not up for debate.” 

Will stalked off towards the group of knights, all now at his attention. “Squire!” 

A young man came out and began to put on Will’s practice armor. 

“Who is ready to fight me?” 

“Will…” 

The men all seemed wary and looked to each other. Will felt his anger build the longer no one made a sound, and was ready to rush at the nearest knight when a voice cut through the quiet. 

“Is there no one who will--?”

“I will, Little King.” 

Will turned to the unfamiliar voice and several of the knights all rallied closer to him with hands to their weapons. 

The man in front of him was a sight to behold. The cloak of furs that hung on his shoulders dwarfed him almost comically, barely covering the roughshod clothing beneath, and his windswept silver hair seemed hardly suitable for day wear even more so the days worth of growth on his chin. His red eyes danced as he surveyed Will and when he pulled out a sword longer than any Will had ever seen before the knights all took a step back in fear. 

“Little King?” Will asked, moving his sword to show this interloper his strength, “I will have you know, I am Prince of…” 

“I know what you are Prince of, Little King, but playing at fighting doesn’t make you anything more than a boy in a crown.” 

“Will,” his father said, coming seemingly from nowhere, “I would like to introduce you to---” 

“I know who he is, Father,” Will said evenly, not putting his sword away, “My soon to be jailer who will escort me off to live like a wild beast.” 

The Wildling King smiled widely. “Jailer? I see no manacles on your wrists.” 

“Not yet.” 

His father sighed. “Hannibal I beg your pardon. Will is quite.....” 

“He is everything you told me he would be and more,” The Wildling King said, lowering his sword as he stepped closer to Will who froze in surprise, “A beautiful, fierce Little King who will someday rule across the world.” 

Will felt his own traitorous blush but refused to look away, “I am not beautiful, nor am I a little anything.” 

He tensed when his betrothed moved closer and the scent of his musk overpowered Will’s senses. A mixture of earth, sweat, and blood. Will had never smelled so much blood. He forced himself not to show weakness. 

“No, you are not little,” The Wildling King said, “But you are quite beautiful.” 

“I…” 

“Mischa, bring me the gift.” 

Will was surprised when a young girl appeared carrying a box. She had silver hair and red eyes like the King did, though hers were not nearly as friendly. He felt her anger at him may in fact be more than Will’s own for her King. 

“Thank you, Sesuo.” 

The word was unknown to Will, though it seemed to soften the girl’s eyes, and when he looked to box again she seemed to have disappeared into the vapor she’d come from. 

“I brought you a gift,” his betrothed said, setting it on the stone ground, “Quite rare, but rather fitting for such a fierce Little King.” 

He opened the box and Will gasped. 

It was a dragon’s egg. He’d never seen one before, not ever, but knew there was nothing else it could be. 

“Oh my,” His father said, “It...it is dead, isn’t it?”    
  


The egg he lifted out of the box and handed to Will who let his sword drop immediately as he cradled the egg in his hands. 

“Dragons have been extinct for millenia,” he said silkily, “But one never knows when they may be reborn.” 

Will ran his hand over the rough edges of the egg. He was at a loss for words. 

“It is a lovely wedding gift,” Will’s father said softly. 

“Do you like it, Little King?” 

“It’s beautiful,” Will whispered, lifting his gaze to look at the man again. 

Hannibal, his father had called him. 

It fit him. 

There was a low growl and Will turned to the sound of Winston, coming back from his own hunt. The direwolf seemed ready to attack the strangers and they all stepped back, pulling weapons to defend themselves. 

“Winston, it’s---” 

Before Will could speak the direwolf came at Hannibal, who didn’t move an inch to protect himself. He nearly dropped the dragon egg in shock, holding it tightly to him to put himself between them, but Hannibal gently pushed him aside. 

He bent down at Winston’s level before his lip curled and an inhuman growl erupted from him. Winston bowed his head and whined in fear, letting Hannibal pet his head softly. 

“I’ve never...he’s never done that before.” 

Hannibal smiled at him. “Wolves know to fear what is stronger than them. He is a good, strong protector for you, but will never be able to keep me at bay.” 

His father coughed. “Well then….I think it best that you all be shown your lodgings for the next several weeks. You surprised us with your earliness. I did not expect you for a week yet. My son only learned of the wedding just moments ago.” 

“I found myself unable to wait to meet my Beloved,” Hannibal said, looking to Will again, “And the Little King did not disappoint. I still would be quite happy to cross swords with you.” 

Will hated the blush that filled his cheeks again. “I think it best that I ready myself for dinner. Thank you for the gift. Winston, come.” 

He forced himself not to run away but hurried all the same up the stairs and to his quarters. The minute he was alone he let out a long breath and looked around the room for something to put the dragon egg inside. There was a small box he regularly used for hunting knives that he emptied fast onto his vanity and took one of his silk shirts to cushion it. 

The iridescent shimmer across the egg made him smile and he ran his fingers over the scaly outer edge. “Perhaps you want to wake up now?” 

Winston whined and pushed his head under Will’s arm for attention and the force of it nearly knocked him over. He laughed and put both his hands on the wolf’s face. “No one can replace you, my friend. Do not worry. It’s just quite an exciting gift. That’s all.” 

He looked at the egg again and sighed. “Now I have to dress for dinner.” 

The sudden loss of anger he felt seemed shameful knowing he was still being carted off like property to someone so beneath him. The pretty words of his betrothed should not make him waver in his anger, no matter how many dragon eggs he was given. 

He was not going to let this happen so easily. 

Will took off his armor to dress in some fine clothing for dinner, an ensemble of fiery reds and deep blues that made his eyes stand out like sparkling sapphires. Winston whined when he made him stay in his bedroom and Will closed the door behind him with a soft click. 

There was no need to have his large direwolf at dinner, no matter how much it would irk his father he knew it would not bother his betrothed. Will was immediately put upon by guards at his sides when he stepped out to the stairs, and followed them all the way to the dining room. 

The Wildling party now seemed quite slimmer, only two sitting on both sides of their king: Mischa and a young woman close to Will’s age. She held him in the same regard Mischa did though, angry eyed and mistrusting as he sat across from them. 

“A clothing change already? I’m flattered by the finery but it’s not necessary,” Hannibal said, standing at attention for him. 

Will was irked a bit as he scooted in closer to the table. “I always dress for dinner. It is quite customary for most royals to do the same.” 

Their guests all still wore the same clothing as before and Will knew the insult would upset his father but not Hannibal. His betrothed seemed to be quite pleased with the jab as he sat down. 

“I’m afraid I only brought what was necessary with me, though during our time here perhaps some clothing can be made that suits my Little King’s tastes. Your father has just informed us that he wants to throw a ball before we’re wed.” 

Will stared at his father in horror. “A ball?” 

“Hannibal and his people will be here for some time before the wedding, Will. I would like for the wardens to come and meet the man who will in the future rule alongside you.” 

He grimaced. “I suppose.” 

“And his family should feel at home here for their stay. Your wedding will be an important event in the kingdom and I would like for there to be a comfortable atmosphere.” 

“I am not unfamiliar with balls, Little King,” Hannibal said, “If you’re worried us wildfolk will make you look anything less than royal.” 

Mischa and the other young woman leaned forward to exchange secret smiles. He was unsure who these young ladies were to The Wildling King and to his annoyance wanted to know. Were they his children? His sisters? 

“I wasn’t worried at all,” Will said softly, looking towards the servants that entered with their food, “I just hadn’t been informed.” 

“Perhaps your father didn’t think you are old enough yet to be included in such decisions.” 

Will grabbed the knife as his plate was set down and stabbed it into his meat. He eyed his betrothed with thinly laced anger. “The King thinks quite highly of my maturity, Il Mostro,” he said softly, taking up his fork, “He just knows my view on this arrangement and did not want to upset me.” 

“Will...please.” 

“It’s quite alright,” Hannibal said, picking up his utensils, “The Little King’s fierceness is something I quite appreciate. If he had been a docile participant in this marriage there would be very little fun for either of us, and my daughter and sister would have trouble looking up to anyone weak.” 

A daughter and a sister. Will saw very little resemblance between Hannibal and the young woman at his left but the young girl had his hair and eyes. 

“Mischa is your sister? She’s quite young to be. And the other…”

Hannibal’s smile faded. “Our past is none of your concern at present, Highness, and I believe dinner is served.” 

Both girls glared at him. 

The subject appeared to be closed for now. 

Will barely spoke at dinner, taking the time to observe the Wildlings with a softer eye. Hannibal appeared to be quite the doting father and brother, whispering and making both girls smile multiple times throughout while discussing things with his father that Will had no care for like grain production and horse raising. 

The Wildling King seemed much more refined than he should be, that much was true, and even his young charges were much more well behaved than Will had expected. He was sure the wild people beyond the wall were not nearly as friendly or soft spoken as Hannibal’s family. 

There was no way they could be, not after the stories the knights had told him of them. 

His father took Hannibal aside after dinner for a discussion Will himself was not invited to, which upset him, but really they had made plans about the rest of his life already so he did not think there was much more they could do in his absence. The girls went out to the courtyard, empty now, and walked in the gardens. Will waited a bit for them to be ahead of him and went out to watch them from afar. 

They were close, that much was obvious, but to his surprise it seemed the younger lead the older. He did not know Hannibal’s daughter’s name yet and found he wanted to, oddly interested even after such a short time. 

When they came out of the gardens and sat on the bench outside he found himself drawing nearer to them. They made no move to acknowledge him though Mischa grew more tense. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been stared at with such ire before.” 

Both girls looked at him. 

“You gave the same to our King, so why not give it back to you?” Mischa said, “Rudeness is not something we forgive for pretty faces as my brother does.” 

Will blushed, though he glared back. “My life is being changed rather drastically, I make no apology for my upset.” 

“My father is a good man,” the older said, “He and we are not what people have told you.” 

“Your name?” 

“Abigail,” she said, “I was once like you, you know. Hannibal saved me from a fate worse than death and took me in as his own. He made me strong, and fought to keep me safe for many years. I would die for him. We all would. Could you say you inspire the same loyalty without fear?” 

Will stepped closer to them. “My men would kill to protect me.” 

“Because they fear death,” Mischa growled, “We do not fear death. Death is but another great adventure. We have no need for someone as weak as you among us.” 

He had never been given such a dressing down before and not by someone so young. 

“I am not weak.” 

“You have many things to protect you here,” Abigail said, turning now, “But what are you with just a sword in your hand?” 

“I am very good with a sword. I’ve been taught by the finest---” 

Mischa got up from the bench and walked straight to him to stare up into his eyes. 

“I challenge you then,” she said, her dark red eyes full of menace, “Show me how strong you are.” 

“I will not fight a child.” 

“Mischa is one of the best swordswomen I’ve ever seen,” Abigail said, “She outranks many men among our camp.” 

Will scoffed. “She is naught but ten and I will not---” 

Mischa stalked off and he felt oddly better with her gone, his breath heavy in her wake. 

“I am not some simpering pomp like you both seem to think I am,” he said softly, “I have fought quite hard to hone my skills and I will fight even harder to stop this alliance.” 

Abigail smiled. “You seemed quite okay when you got your gift hours ago with Hannibal so close, and seeing him calm your direwolf so easily. Almost as if you were warming to him.” 

He felt his cheeks warm again. “Gifts and growling do not---” 

There was a loud dragging sound on the stone walk that made him look to see the cause and in his shock Mischa was back again. 

This time she held two swords, one in each hand, and the anger in her eyes burned into him. 

“She is insane.” 

“She is her brother’s sister.” 

He looked at Abigail. “I will not fight her.” 

“Do you think her less because she is young or because she is a woman?” 

Will paled. “I---” 

Mischa dropped one sword at his feet. “Show me your strength, Pretty Prince. Let me see that you deserve to be handfast to my brother for more than just a peace treaty.” 

He heard some voices now around them and saw some of the knights were observing the scene. His father and Hannibal were nowhere in sight. 

Will picked up the sword and saw it had blood on it still. The heavy feel of it in his hand was foreign, but he could use it well enough. 

“This is insanity.” 

Mischa moved into a fighting stance and smiled at him. 

“All war is insanity, Pretty Prince.” 


	2. Chapter 2

She was favoring her left side again. 

Hannibal watched his Little King and sister clash swords in the courtyard below him with pride. Mischa had taken to the sword like a horse to drink when she was naught but five, and far surpassed some of his best men by now. He watched as Will held back, though his resolve seemed just about to crumble, and knew that if she beat his betrothed it would be bad for all of them. 

Mischa parried and caught Will’s leg, though just in time his Little King saved himself and Mischa’s eyes spotted Hannibal at once. 

He shook his head at her and saw the anger in response. 

She let Will win not but a moment later with a feigned step, and fell on her back to let the sword slip from her hand. 

“They will get along well,” he said. 

“Will hates me.” 

“He is young,” Hannibal said, “Young men don’t like to be told what to do with the rest of their lives when they are young.” 

His father sighed and watched as Will helped Mischa stand. “He is my only son.” 

“And he will be my only love.” 

They exchanged looks. 

“You cannot know that for certain. I was fond of Will’s mother but I never quite loved her like I should have.” 

“I know,” Hannibal said, “A seer in our camp predicted all of this, and him, far longer ago than you could imagine.” 

He watched King Michael wrestle with his incredulous nature and desperate need for hope for a bit too long before skepticism won out. 

“You have been out in the cold for far too long, Hannibal.” 

Michael and he have been fighting this war for going on two decades now, both of them sure the other was better, and while he respected him Hannibal still knew he was not as good of a King as he. 

His wedding to Will was the only sacrifice King Michael had ever made, the only time he’d been truly humbled, and if not for Will Hannibal would have killed him even before they left the castle. 

But it was not meant to happen that way. 

Will needed to trust and love Hannibal before he would become the best King he could be. 

The seer had told him this and while he had once strongly been against using predictions for his future, one look at his Little King had made him change his mind. 

‘His beauty will nearly surpass his bloodthirst.’ 

Hannibal could almost see it now, the two of them bathed in the blood of their enemies before they ravished each other till dawn. The thought made his body warm and he looked to the courtyard again only to see Will alone. 

“The cold can do some people wonders. Excuse me, Your Highness.” 

He left the King’s chambers to head down the stairs and out to the courtyard. Will looked up at his approach and seemed fearful for a moment. 

“I did not hurt her,” he started, “I tried to--” 

“May I sit?”    
  


Will nodded. 

“My sister is quite stubborn,” he mused, “She takes after our mother in that respect. I have trained her myself going on some five years now and she is quite a strong swordswoman. I take no offense at you letting her nearly win.” 

“Let her?” Will scoffed, “She let  _ me _ win. Which I am sure was your doing.” 

“I did not want to have you ridiculed in your own home.” 

“I thank you, as humiliating as being coddled by a ten year old was.” 

Hannibal smiled. “I could teach you, if you’d like.” 

Will looked at the sword by his side. “It’s not proper.” 

“And fighting with a ten year old girl is? I had no idea life on the other side of the wall had changed these past few decades.”    
  


Will didn’t look at him. “I don’t want to marry you.” 

“I know.”    
  


“No matter how many dragon eggs you give me I will still hate being there in the cold.” 

Hannibal moved to put his hand on Will’s. 

“I will keep you warm.” 

The lovely blush to his cheeks made Hannibal wish they were wed already. 

“I---” 

Someone coughed and they both looked at the interrupter. One of his men, a Wildling warrior by the name of Mat’hew, seemed amused. “The men wait for their assignments, my King.” 

Hannibal didn’t like Mat’hew much, the young man’s loyalties seemed to ebb and flow with the wind, but he was quite skilled. “Two by each room and three outside. This has been discussed. Have they already let the warm climate go to their heads?” 

Mat’hew frowned. “No sire, they---” 

“Leave us. The interruption is not wanted nor needed. If I see you again before morning I will leave you here to boil in this heat when we leave.” 

The young warrior’s angry glare made him in turn amused. 

“Another young man who doesn’t like to be given orders?” 

Hannibal smiled at Will. “I have found that the young men who pretend not to like orders really only are fighting the chaos they crave. Do you crave chaos, Little King?”    
  


Will moved to stand and Hannibal grabbed his arm. 

“Let me go.” 

“Answer me.” 

“I love my life here, Ser. I do not wish for anything else.” 

Hannibal leaned closer and breathed him in. He was bathed in perfume, too much in his opinion, but the scent beneath was lovely. Like cool water, warm sun, and a bit of beast. 

“You have a pleasant scent, though it does remind me more of a direwolf than a royal.” 

“Did you just smell me?,” Will asked. 

“Hard not to this close, Little King.” 

“If you would let me go…” 

He moved his hand down Will’s arm and took his hand. The touch made Will shiver and Hannibal smiled. “I never want to let you go, not ever.”    
  


Will’s flushed cheeks directly conflicted with the glare in his eyes. “So you are to be my jailer then?” 

Hannibal let him go instantly and Will stood. “Never.” 

Will rubbed at his arm and his frown started to lessen. Hannibal was surprised he did not run away. 

“Good,” he whispered, a soft smile on his mouth, “In the future I will have you know I don’t take very highly to being told I reek of animal stench. If that is some Northern Wildling courting custom I apologize but---” 

Hannibal stood and took both of Will’s hands in his. “I live by my senses, Little King. I eat, sleep, drink, kill, and rut with all of them. I apologize if it is not something you’re used to, but every moment since we met I want to experience you with all of me.” 

Will let out a long breath and Hannibal kissed the tops of his hands. 

“We’ve only just met today,” he said softly. 

He looked up at Will through his eyelashes and smiled. “Yes, I know.” 

Will looked at Hannibal’s mouth and then quickly met his eyes. “I should retire to my room now.” 

Hannibal let his hands go and nodded. “Goodnight, Little King.” 

“Goodnight, Hannibal.” 

He took off so quickly Hannibal could only imagine what was going through his mind. The conflict between wanting to live his life as he had before now versus the interest in what was to come must be hard to figure for someone so sheltered. 

Hannibal turned to look out at the garden again and inhaled the scent of the flowers. 

There were no flowers or finery beyond the wall and despite it being his home at times he remembered what it was like to be ensconced in warmth. 

There were soft footsteps behind him suddenly and he knew they could only belong to one person. 

“I don’t like him.” 

“It is a good thing then that your like or dislike doesn’t affect the treaty.”

“He is weak and pretty and….” 

Hannibal looked at her pouting face. “Are you jealous that my betrothed is prettier than you are?” 

Mischa glared at him. “No! I don’t...I just...he is not right for you, Brolis. You need someone strong, someone….” 

Hannibal put his hand on her cheek. “Everyone grows according to their circumstances, Sesuo. Will is going to grow and you will regret these words in your future. Like or dislike he will be mine and I will be his.”

She pulled away from him. “I will not call him Brother.” 

“I never would have asked you to,” he promised, “But for now, I would ask you to see him as he is not as you think he will be. We will be here for many weeks and I do not think angry dueling is the way for you to bond with Will.” 

“I don’t want to bond at all.” 

“We shall see.”    
  


There was a click of claws and they both looked to see Will’s direwolf come out of the brush. It was an oddly uncommon pet for anyone to have let alone a Prince, and Hannibal knew there had to be an interesting story to tell of his existence at the castle. He held out his hand and the animal came up to him. He brushed his hand over it’s fur. 

“Good boy,” he said softly. 

“Direwolves are not common in the South,” Mischa said. 

“No, they are not.” 

“And they are not common to be tame.” 

Hannibal smiled at her. “He will not bite.” 

“You,” she finished, “He will not bite you.” 

“I think he forgives you for attacking his master.” 

Mischa seemed conflicted. “I…”    
  


He took her hand and put it on the beast’s head. She pet through its fur and smiled. 

“A little bit of home,” he mused. 

“I will try,” she said softly, not looking at him, “No more fighting….unless he asks.” 

Hannibal pulled Mischa close and kissed her forehead. “This pleases me to hear.” 

She leaned into his touch for a second before she pushed him away. “I am quite tired now, Brother. I suggest you soon retire to your fancy room as well.” 

“You should not think very badly of fancy rooms as they may factor into both our futures eventually.” 

Mischa made a face. “I will be taking over as Queen after you become the Pretty Prince’s pet. I have no need for fancy rooms.” 

Hannibal smiled. “His pet?” 

“Is that not what you will be?” 

He ran his hand over the direwolf’s nose. “I think Will has a very good pet already. He does not need another. I will be by his side to rule, not to be tamed.” 

“We shall see. Goodnight, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal watched her go and waited a moment before he headed towards the castle himself. He nodded to the guards at the door and took one step before a voice broke through the darkness. 

“He is not meant for a life such as yours.” 

He turned to see a man come out of the shadows in armor and a sword at his side. 

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” 

The man held out his hand and Hannibal shook it once. “Ser Jack Crawford,” the man said, “I am the captain of the Kingsguard and have been Will’s swordmaster since he was only a bit older than your sister.” 

“I did not see you in the courtyard, Ser.” 

“You weren’t meant to,” Jack answered, a slight smile on his lips, “I have heard stories of the Wildling King and wanted to witness without notice. You and your group did not disappoint. Though with Will…” 

“Will is quite strong,” Hannibal said, anger rising in him, “He does not need coddling by anyone, let alone someone who has long since finished being his teacher.” 

“That did not make me stop caring.” 

His fists clenched as he leaned in closer to the knight. “He will someday be a King, Ser, and I will watch as he grows stronger than any there has ever been before. You should watch yourself, Knight. I have killed people for less rudeness than you are displaying now.”

They stared at each other for several moments before Jack bowed his head. 

“My apologies, Your Grace. I spoke out of turn.” 

“Accepted, Ser. I hope you have a pleasant evening.” 

Hannibal stalked into the palace and followed his guards up the stairs to his guest quarters. He walked right to the balcony and in hopes the cool air would help his anger. The courtyard lighting was darkened now and it felt cool enough to remind him of the North if only for a short while. 

“Apologies, My King, but you asked if the men saw anything of note.” 

He looked over and saw the captain of his guard, The Red Dragon, bent down on a knee with his head bowed. “No need, my friend. Stand please.” 

The Red Dragon was known as such for his razor sharp teeth and affinity for blood. He had fought as Hannibal’s right hand for over a decade now, though when they met he’d been hardly more than a boy. Hannibal had saved him from the evils on the other side of the wall, then taken him in, and the man pledged himself to Hannibal for life. He was not the bloodthirsty monster many took him for but Hannibal knew Francis did not mind the stories. There was power in falsities just as much as truth. 

“What have the men heard?” 

Francis came to the edge of the balcony and looked out. “There was another pledged to the prince before you,” he said softly, “A young princess.”    
  


Hannibal’s lip curled. “And this betrothal was broken?” 

“It was not yet made true before the treaty was signed. The servants say she is quite beautiful and soft hearted. She and the Prince exchange letters quite often.” 

His hands curled into fists. “Her name?” 

“Mollyana.” 

“Will the Princess be coming to the wedding?” 

Francis looked at him. “I can find out, My King.” 

“Please do. Is there more?” 

“The direwolf,” Francis started, “It came to the Prince by---” 

“Stop. I do not wish to hear this story. The Prince will tell me in time and I would like to hear it from only his lips.” 

“As you wish.” 

“Thank you, my friend. Is there more?” 

“No, My King. The Prince keeps much to himself we have heard, does not socialize but with the knights of his own house and the direwolf. He is quite taken with beasties, the servants have said.” 

Hannibal smiled. “Is he?”

Francis bowed his head again. “That is all I have for you, My King. I and the others will try harder during our stay, we promise you.” 

“That is all I ask,” he said softly, “You are dismissed.” 

He watched The Red Dragon go and began to peel out of his thick coverings. The cool air licked against his skin as he undressed and he closed his eyes once he stood entirely naked in the moonlight. 

The feeling of being watched hit him after several moments and made him turn and see that he was not alone. 

Not but a short distance away there was another balcony where his intended stood with wide eyes. 

They were too far apart to speak but Hannibal needn’t use words. He stared deeply into his Little King’s eyes before he nodded once and turned to go inside. The Prince would tell no one of this, that he knew, and would also be treated to a view of his backside. 

Hannibal smiled to himself as he lay on the bed covers without drawing a single one back over himself. 

The cool air still tickled his skin and he would take what he could feel of it. 

After all it would not be long before he was home again, and his bed would no longer be empty. 

“My Little King,” he whispered. 

He knew things would not be easy between them, that changing Will’s world came with caveats that could make him be quite hated for a very long time, but in the end all that mattered was the last words the seer had told him before he left to meet his intended. 

‘You will never know such happiness as you do when you are with him.’ 

Hannibal’s chest ached as he imagined such a feeling. 

There were moments when he felt happiness now, often with Mischa and Abigail, but there had been something in him empty since the deaths of his parents. His desires had changed, opened him up to something that people feared, but his connections had become fleeting. The worry that his fondness for the Little King may make him weak notwithstanding, he still longed for it. 

Loving someone other than his family, craving them, had not been something he had before experienced. 

He wondered as he drifted off into slumber if his carnivorous instincts may drive him over the edge the closer he came to Will. 

Strangely the idea didn’t worry him. 

After all, if the seer had been telling truths, Will’s need for carnage could someday soon rival his own. 

Hannibal could not wait for that day to come. 

He could almost smell the blood in the air.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re distracted again,” Jack said, knocking Will’s sword to the ground. 

Will could not deny his attention being elsewhere so he said nothing, picking up his sword to get in a fighting stance once more. 

The addition of the wildlings in the castle had completely taken precedence over his life in the past days. His father seemed oddly submissive around the Wildling King, going off for secret meetings Will was not privy to and enjoying Hannibal’s company more than he should have in Will’s opinion. 

Not that he was completely immune to Hannibal’s charms either. 

After that first night he had successfully kept from being alone with Hannibal, though that did not mean the man was not constantly on his mind. There was something about him, a magnetic pull that he fought hard against but still strayed to more often than not. The nearness of their rooms gave him glimpses of the older man, the strangeness of his nightly activities as well as his interactions on the balcony were hard to look away from. 

Hannibal was oddly warm with some of his subordinates, playful with his family, and intensely compelling when he was alone. Will would watch him from the windows, safely unseen after that first night, and find himself warm all over at the sight of him. 

Still he did not want to spend his life with him. 

Jack parried and they clashed swords, the older man pulling Will out of his reverie as the blade went near to his neck. 

“YOU ARE NOT PAYING ATTENTION,” he growled, pushing Will back with force. 

Will straightened himself and fought to catch his breath. 

“Forgive me if my mind is somewhere beyond swords when my life is about to be ruined forever.” 

“This childish excuse for being distracted speaks nothing for your arguments that you are more than a boy. You are going to do your duty, we both know this, and need to stop thinking in opposites.” 

He scoffed. “It is not a childish excuse, Ser,” he murmured, sheathing his sword, “And I think I am done for the day. I give you my leave.” 

“We have hardly begun to---”    
  


There was a loud howl that ripped through any argument Jack may have had, and Will’s blood ran cold. He knew Winston had been out hunting as he always did the majority of days but safely in their own woods there had never been need for alarm. The wildlings now went out for training there nearly every day and had yet to encounter him but he feared they finally had. 

“Will!” 

He took off in a run, fear echoing in his heart, and was nearly doubled over from his upset when he came upon a scene that confused him greatly. 

Mischa and Abigail were tossing a dead animal back and forth while Winston ran between them. He seemed to have no ill will towards either girl, his tail wagging in excitement, and when Mischa tossed the body off to the side at Will’s presence he took off after it like a dog with a bone. 

“What…is….going on...here?” Will panted out, breathless. 

Mischa glared at him and Abigail came to her aunt’s aide. “We were merely playing, Pretty Prince,” she said icily, “Is that against your palace rules?” 

He fell to the grass just as a commotion of sound came at once. 

Hannibal and his guards were behind him, shock and fear in their eyes till they took in the scene. 

“What has happened?” 

“Your intended does not like us to play with his pet,” Mischa spat out, her gaze pointed, “I was not aware of this rule, Brolis. You need to start making a list of them.” 

Will glared at her. “I feared for my companion’s life as well as your lives. Excuse me for being worried about something I care about, Princess.” 

He drew the word out like an insult and knew she saw it as one.

“I am not---” 

“Oh no? I thought that was---” 

“Silence!” 

They both looked at Hannibal, whose face bore a deeper anger than Will had ever seen since they had known each other. He was fearsome, that Will knew, but in that moment he wondered just how far the King’s anger went. 

“I would like you both to apologize for scaring the Prince.” 

“I will do no such thing,” she hissed, “He is merely acting like a spoiled--” 

Hannibal’s gaze darkened as he looked at her. “Are you disobeying your King?” 

Will saw her face fall and when she turned her face to him it seemed as if she were another person. “I am sorry, Prince Will. It will not happen again.” 

Abigail came up to Will. “I apologize for upsetting you.” 

“Apology accepted.” 

“Very good. Now I think it best you both get back to the castle.” 

Mischa glared at him as she and Abigail passed by them. He whistled for Winston who came up to him, face wet with blood, and pet his head. 

“We would like to be alone.” 

Will looked up and saw Hannibal’s men leave at his words, though his own didn’t move. He sighed. “Leave us.” 

“Your Grace, I am not sure that is wise.” 

He smiled at Hannibal. “Are you going to kill me, Ser?” 

“Not at the moment,” Hannibal teased, “Though if I were I see no reason to do so until after we’ve been wed.” 

Will laughed. “That would make for a better plan for anyone looking to wed their betrothed, I’m sure,” he looked at his guards, “I am perfectly safe with my direwolf here in case of spontaneous murder. Leave us. I will not ask again.” 

They waited for the sound of footsteps to fade off before they spoke. 

“I apologize for my excitement,” he murmured, scratching behind Winston’s ear, “I did not know he had become close to them.” 

“If you hadn’t spent the last several days determined to avoid all contact with me, I assumed you would know more about my family as well.” 

He blushed. “I will not dishonor us both with a lie against that claim.” 

Hannibal sat down on the grass on Winston’s other side and began to pet him as well. Will followed suit and before long the direwolf laid between them. He could almost imagine this exact scenario in the harsh cold winter beyond the wall and the image was oddly not horrible to contemplate. 

“There are only a few short weeks before our wedding and then I expect to leave not long after. Are you determined to make our arrangement a hostile one? That first night I thought you had warmed to me. Was I wrong? ” 

He put his hand over Will’s on Winston’s back. 

“Warm may not be the right word for it,” Will mumbled, looking down. 

Will tried to move his hand away but Hannibal threaded their fingers together. He felt his face grow hotter and tightened the hold. 

“Less hate then.” 

“Perhaps,” he whispered, lifting his head, “I confess I am interested in knowing you.” 

Hannibal smiled. “What would you like to know? I am open to any questions you may have.” 

“Save for talk about your sister and parents.” 

He felt Hannibal tense. “My parents have no direct connection between you and I.” 

“Yet you know mine.” 

Hannibal smiled though it was with much less warmth. “Clever connecting, Little King. I applaud you.” 

“You still have not answered my question.” 

“You did not ask one.” 

“I assume they no longer live?” 

“No.” 

“Were their deaths….violent? 

Hannibal’s voice dripped with scorn. “Yes.” 

He felt his stomach twist and squeezed the King’s hand. Hannibal’s eyes softened. 

“My mother died when I was born,” he confessed, “I never knew her. My father, despite being bombarded with calls for it, never married to give the Seven Kingdoms another Queen.” 

Hannibal nodded. “True love does not often strike twice.” 

“You have never taken a Royal consort?” 

“No,” Hannibal confessed, “I confess I have known the bodies of many since I united the wildling tribes, but I have never been in love enough to marry.” 

“Yet you are about to be married now.” 

He smiled and the look in his eyes made Will’s body ache. “Yes, I am.” 

“You raised Mischa from a babe?” 

“Yes,” Hannibal said, “Have I done well?” 

“She is strong,” Will said, “Though quite unlike the princesses I’ve met. I take it she will be unhappy to wear a dress to our wedding?” 

“Will you make her dress in one?” 

Will thought for a moment and shook his head. “No. I do not need her to hate me anymore than she already does.” 

“Mischa does not hate you,” Hannibal said, lifting Will’s hand up to his lips, “She just does not understand your world. My sister has never been happy with things that make no sense to her and she thinks this life is frivolous.” 

Will licked his lips. “Do you think me frivolous?” 

“No,” Hannibal said softly, “I have lived a royal life on both sides of the wall. I understand the appeal. I think you are…a fierce, beautiful king in waiting with a restrained wildness and gentle heart.” 

He felt his heart clench at Hannibal’s words. “You have yet to know me very well at all and you think things of me that I haven’t yet earned. Do you always speak in such flowery prose and compliments?” 

Hannibal put a hand to his cheek and Will could not help but lean into the touch. He was warm, warmer than most, and Will had a sudden image of him on the balcony not very long ago in his nudity. His cheeks burned at memory yet he did not look away. 

“Only to you, Little King.” 

Will licks his lips. “I fear your behavior is fast becoming untoward, Ser.” 

“I am not a Ser,” Hannibal teased, “I am a King. We do not regulate our behaviors like others do.” 

“A King of your own making,” Will whispered, “Why? You have said you were familiar with a royal life. Why leave it to live with those who live like savages?” 

Hannibal’s lip curled. “My people are not savage,” he said, running a finger under Will’s chin, “They live without fear of anything, and do not adhere to the trappings that the rest of the world is bound by. A full life without hindrance, Little King. Can you imagine anything better?” 

Will’s head was muddled at their closeness and he fought to give into the promises that echoed back at him in the King’s eyes. He forced himself to pull away completely, letting go of Hannibal’s hand and standing without looking at him again. 

“Love,” Will said, “I do not wish to be bound to someone I do not love.” 

“Do you love your Southern Princess?” 

He turned to look at him again and saw that same fearsome look that had scared him earlier. 

“How do you know of Mollyana?” 

“The little birds of the house like to talk. You did not answer the question.” 

Will looked away again. “It is none of your concern.” 

Hannibal stood and stepped close to Will again but did not touch him. 

“You have been promised to me,” he said, voice thick with scorn, “So if this Princess impedes any developing closeness we may have in the future...it is most definitely my concern.” 

Will let out a long breath and pushed aside any fear before he stared up into Hannibal’s eyes. 

“Are you threatening her?” 

“I do not kill defenseless princesses, Little King,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

“I am fond of her,” Will said, “Yet I do not love her, no. I have yet to have loved anyone in mind or in body. Does that please you?”    
  


Hannibal leaned in close and brushed a kiss to Will’s cheek. 

“You please me in all ways, Little King,” he whispered, “But knowing your body will be mine and only mine? Makes me quite pleased.” 

Will imagined the things Hannibal would do to him in a marriage bed and the warmth that spread over him was immense. He was embarrassed at how much the idea excited him. 

“We should head back,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “My father---” 

“Knows better than to upset me now,” Hannibal finished, reaching out to take Will’s hand in his again. 

He forced himself to look at Hannibal again before he took his hand away. 

“I will not defile myself like a common whore,” he said, brushing him off, “You may be used to people throwing themselves into your arms at the slightest touch, but I am much harder to lure into depravity.” 

Hannibal’s smile widened. “Yes you are,” he said, looking at Will fully with a lecherous intent, “Does that displease you? Thought of others in my bed?”    
  


“I do not care what you do with your body,” Will said, already heading back towards the gardens that led to the house, “Bed every person in the castle, Ser. I do not care.”

Will did not turn and quickened his pace, anger burning in his veins at letting himself get in such a position. He seemed to lose all sense around this man to his own detriment. 

Their steps echoed each other on the soft grass and Will refused to look back though he could almost imagine the smile on the Wildling King’s face. 

“I will take your words into consideration,” Hannibal said, “Though every person in the castle seems like a feat even I cannot surpass in only a few weeks. Your father does not seem the type to succumb to my charms.” 

The jibe was meant to get him to defend his father so Will ignored it, and he was glad to be out of the garden and in the courtyard not long after. Jack looked quite furious to see them when they came near him. 

“You left your guards? Have you lost all sense?” 

“Did you worry I would sully the Prince’s body in our privacy, Ser Jack?” Hannibal asked, “Do you think so little of him?” 

Will’s anger grew when he looked and saw Hannibal’s smile. 

“Your cleverness is not welcomed, my betrothed,” he said, his voice thick with scorn,“I do believe it is time for you to shut your mouth before someone has to shut it for you.” 

Hannibal’s smile widened. “I am most excited to hear how you would go about such a thing, Little King.”

Jack drew his sword, “How dare you speak to him that way!”    
  


Will felt odd how little the words had offended him, as lecherous as they were. He stepped between the two men and put his hand on Jack’s sword. “Put your weapon away, Ser. He holds more authority than you or I and despite my confidence in your abilities we both know he would best you.” 

Jack put his sword back in its sheath but did not take his eyes off Hannibal. 

“I no longer think this man will not harm you, My Prince.” 

There was a flurry of footsteps and several of the wildling guards came behind Hannibal. They had hands on their weapons but made no move to draw. Will knew they would not unless their King commanded it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

“There was a misunderstanding, Father. Nothing more.” 

King Michael stood at the stairs that led down into the courtyard and as he stepped down Will’s men all parted the way for him. Hannibal made no move at all and his smile had not faded. If anything, he seemed much more jovial with each passing moment. 

“Ser Jack I forbid you to brandish your weapon in King Hannibal’s presence. I apologize, Hannibal. My men are quite protective of my son.” 

Hannibal shook his head.

“No need, Your Grace. Knowing my betrothed has such a strong loyalty from his men gives me great hope in his abilities to gain such feelings. I should hope he can bring about such immense protective inklings from my own men in the future.” 

“I suppose,” his father said, looking between the three of them, “Will, is everything all right?” 

Will nodded. “Everything is fine, Father. Hannibal’s sense of tease did not go over well with Ser Jack. That is all. I am perfectly fine with my betrothed’s humor.” 

King Michael looked at him with a hard stare as if attempting to see into Will’s mind. 

“You are certain?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“As we have now straightened out the infighting I will take my leave,” Hannibal said, giving them both a slight bow.

Will could hardly stop himself from continuing to watch after Hannibal until he was too far to see, and when he looked again at his Father there was worry in his eyes. “Come with me, son.” 

He knew the tone. 

Father had spent years forcing Will to tell him when others were less than polite to him. Lords, ladies, and their children had looked down about him as a boy for his quietness. He had since nearly grown out of his inability to tell on those who may face the King’s wrath. Though as he followed his father Will knew if he were to tell King Michael the ways Hannibal had acted in their solitude there were definite grounds to sever their relationship all together. 

There were boundaries to be kept before marriage and as the days progressed they skirted closer and closer to the edge. 

King Michael waited until they were in his quarters behind a closed door to speak. 

“Sit.” 

There was a table beside his father’s bed with two chairs. Will sat down and let out a long breath. 

“Everything is fine, Father. King Hannibal is...” 

“How could you be so reckless as to be alone with him?” 

Will glared at him. “As someone who has bound me to him I would’ve expected you to be pleased. I am meant to spend the rest of my life in marriage to him if you have not yet forgotten.” 

The King shook his head. “Yes you are tied with him in a betrothal but that does not mean you need to act so foolish. That man has led his people to kill more of my soldiers than anyone in all the years I have worn the crown. He has single handedly brought me so low that I would give my only son to him as barter to end the slaughter. That does not make him a friend, Will. It makes him someone who would use you as a means to hurt me.” 

“You think him so without sense that he would attack me before we are wed? You have taken meetings with him, Father, and enjoyed his company. You are binding me to him forever. If you think he will hurt me in some way then you obviously have gone mad if you decided to sign the peace treaty.” 

“Will…” 

Will stood so fast his chair tumbled. “If you think it is dangerous to continue to associate with him in private when in a few weeks time I will be sharing his bed then end this farce, my King. End it now. Otherwise I would ask you to trust me enough to know what I am doing. I am not a child!” 

Michael’s eyes were filled with tears. “You are my child, Will. Like it or not, you are. I love you and wish for your happiness. I do think Hannibal holds affection for you, I have seen it in his eyes, yet I also worry for his influence. Has he spoken to you in any way that makes you feel discomfited?” 

He thought for a moment back to the few times they had been alone together. 

Hannibal seemed quite interested in them forming a bond of some sort, learning each other, and his ways of courting Will’s affection were unlike any he’d ever experienced before. Hands on touches and suggestive phrases aside, the discomfort Will felt with him was more for the things the Wildling KIng made him feel, not what he did. There had been moments he’d kept Will from leaving his side but his hold was never to hurt. 

“No,” Will said softly, touching his cheek in memory, “He merely...confuses me.” 

“How so?”    
  


“I feel he sees me as the man I will be in the future not who I am now.” 

His father sighed. “Know this, my son. If you honestly think marrying the Wildling King will be hell on earth for you, I will break the treaty no matter the costs. Your life holds more importance to me than all the people in the Seven Kingdoms.” 

Will looked away and felt a tear fall down his cheek. 

This was his chance. He could tell his father to break the betrothal and sentence several thousands of his subjects to die in a useless war in order to remain where he was now, or he could do his duty and stop being a mewling child. He took a deep breath and turned to look at his father again. 

“Do not break the treaty, My King. I may not be sure of my future at the moment, but I know that Hannibal is meant to be a part of it.” 

“The decree will go out then,” his father said, not making a move to stand, “By this time tomorrow everyone in the Seven Kingdoms will know of your impending wedding plans.” 

Will bowed his head. 

“Thank you, Father,” he whispered, lifting his head slowly, “I would ask you one thing for the future if I may?”    
  


“Anything,my boy.” 

“Trust that I do not need protection from my own feelings,” he said, feeling every word, “I know my own strengths and weaknesses. I will not let the Wildling King mold me into someone I am not.” 

King Michael took far too long to answer. 

“As you wish.” 

Will bowed once more before he turned to go, his knees shaking, and he waited until he was far from his father’s guards to let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d long held in. He closed his eyes and forced himself to speak. 

“Give me a moment.” 

There were two guards with him, as there always were, and both men looked to each other before they nodded once. Will walked ahead and around the corner till he started to cry. The tears were many but he was silent, every bit of boy leaking out of him as he let go. 

Any dreams he’d ever had of his future were laid waste by the reality he’d just doomed himself to in exchange for peace. He took two deep breaths that he let out again before he opened his eyes only to see his was not alone. 

Mischa was not but mere feet away but had not said a word. 

“Even in my privacy I am never alone it seems,” Will said, his voice thick as he wiped at his eyes. 

“Have you broken it then?” she asked, a hopeful lilt to her voice. 

Will smiled. “Would you like me to, Sister? Is that why you decided to stalk in the shadows?” 

Mischa glared. “I was not---” 

“No,” he said, oddly amused at ruining her dreams as his had been, “I have not broken the betrothal. Hannibal and I will be wed by month’s end. I will be his and he will mine.” 

Her face fell. 

“Could you have ended it?” 

“Yes,” he said, “But I care more for peace than I do for my own happiness. Now will you please run off and tell my weakness to your King? I would like to be alone.” 

Mischa scoffed. “If you wish to be alone for tears then go cry in your fancy bed, Pretty Prince.” 

She turned on her heel and stomped off away from him. 

Will could not help but laugh. 

Bested by a child yet again. 

He lifted his head high and went around the corner to his guards who waited patiently as ordered. 

“I am ready.” 

Ready for what Will wasn’t sure, but still he meant every one of the words.

He was ready. 


	4. Chapter 4

There was a change in Will in the days that followed. 

He no longer hid from Hannibal, though to say he actively sought him out would have been a lie. Their interactions were brief, colder than before, and seemed stilted as if he were going through the motions. 

Hannibal did not like this at all. 

There had been no incidents he was aware of from his people that would’ve affected his Little King in such a way and despite his efforts he could get no information to understand what happened. 

“There is still no talk with regards to the Prince?”

Francis shook his head.

“There have been fewer whispers as of late, My King.”

Hannibal frowned. “I may have spoken out of turn with him in regards to his servants. Perhaps they were scolded for their willingness to share with us.”

“Perhaps.”

He shook his head. “Keep talking with them. As the days go by more quickly I fear any hope of forming a stronger connection will turn to dust if this isn’t resolved.”

Francis bowed.

“As you wish, My King.”

“You are dismissed.”

Hannibal watched him leave and would have moved toward the balcony if not for his door opening again. Mischa came in with a somber expression. 

“Brolis.”

“Sister,” he said, watching her every movement. 

“The men say you’re worried about your….betrothed.” 

“Do they?” 

Mischa looked down for a moment. “I saw something.” 

“You saw….something.” 

She looked up and he was surprised at her expression. His sister had never been one to display conflicted emotion but he could see the struggle in her eyes. 

“He was crying,” she said softly, “I thought perhaps he had broken your betrothal but he told me otherwise. He said he cared more for peace than his own happiness.” 

Hannibal felt her words sting him and scowled. “Yet you waited days to tell me this?” 

“I did not want to…” 

“You have openly scorned Will since our arrival yet you care now for his privacy?” 

Mischa glared at him.

“No one deserves to be seen as less in the eyes of you. I have seen the way you look at him, Hannibal. He is still a Pretty Prince and not the destined ruler the seers told you of. If you truly wish to keep him, then I would think it best to not force something that has not already happened. He is weak, but you see him as strong. A continuance of this path you have started will only end in sadness.” 

Hannibal looked at her for a long while, taking in her defensiveness of his betrothed. She had advised him against the treaty, spoken ill of Will up until just days ago, and yet here she was ready to defy him in his Little King’s honor. 

“You respect him.” 

Mischa frowned. “I did not say such a thing.” 

“I can see it in your eyes, little sister. It pleases me to know you have already begun to warm to him.” 

“I still do not like him,” she murmured, looking away, “But anyone who would put the peace of their land over themselves has the mark of a true ruler.” 

Hannibal smiled. “What do you think would make Will warm to me again?” 

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I know not of courting, Brolis. Why ask me?” 

“You saw him at his weakest, “ he said softly, “I am merely asking your opinion.” 

Mischa’s hand went to the sword that hung at her side. “Perhaps...you can show him he is more than a pawn in this? Give him the chance to be more than your...Little King.” 

The idea started to form in his mind even before she finished speaking. 

“Yes, I think that would be a lovely idea. Thank you, Sesuo. You have made me quite happy.” 

She nodded. “I would remind you still that my opinion has not entirely changed on this whole matter. He could become a weakness for you just as easily as a strength.” 

“I could say the same for you and Abigail. Anyone I love is a weakness, are they not?” 

“I would echo back to you words you told me were once spoken by our Father. Lecters never show weakness even in the darkest of times.” 

Hannibal walked across the room and pulled her into his arms tightly.

“I am so proud of you, Little One. They would have been as well,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. 

Mischa pressed her face against his neck. 

“Do not let him change you,” she whispered. 

Hannibal pulled back just enough to look at her. “No one can change me,” he said softly, touching her cheek, “Do not fear.” 

Mischa wiped the tears from her cheeks and resumed her same demeanor. She never showed much weakness to anyone but him, refused to be seen as such, and he thought back to the night he’d stolen her out of their bloody home into the darkness. Did she remember more than she admitted? 

“I will take my leave of you now,” she said, all traces of emotion gone save for the slight redness to her eyes. 

“You are dismissed.” 

He watched her leave before stepping out onto the balcony. The day was cooler than others had been, the sky a pale gray, and as he looked out to the courtyard Will was nowhere to be seen. The balcony beside his did not hold the Prince either, and as he looked out into the woods beyond the Garden he smiled. 

The only place his Little King could be alone would be the woods, despite having guards on him, though he thought perhaps Will would have taken leave of them as well. The direwolf would be guard enough for any wild creatures that may come upon him. 

Hannibal could hardly contain his need to resolve this coldness between them. He rushed out of the castle so quickly his own Kingsguard barely had time to keep up with him. 

King Michael would be displeased at what he was about to propose but Mischa’s words echoed back at him. 

‘Give him a chance to be more than your Little King.’

He dismissed his own guards despite their protests and headed down the path into the woods that opened into a field of flowers. There lying on his back with the direwolf at his side was Will. 

The wolf raised its head at his arrival but made no move to attack. Will did not even turn to look at him which was rankled but Hannibal was sure he was the last person the Prince wished to see. 

“Is it not dangerous for the only heir to all the Seven Kingdoms to be without guard in a forest this large?”

“An open forest perhaps but this one is not, as you well know.”

Hannibal sat down beside him, taking off the two swords he’d brought. 

“You have been avoiding me.”

Will turned his head and the deadness in his beautiful eyes angered Hannibal greatly. “No, I haven’t.”

“Not physically,” Hannibal started, lying down in the flowers beside him, “But in all the ways that matter.”

His heart leapt when Will blushed, but he held him down when Will moved to flee. “Let go of me.”

“No.”

Will’s angry glare was another victory. “Are you going to force yourself on me as Father feared?”

“Attempts to anger me won’t work, Little King. You already know I would never. I long for the day when I see a need for me in your eyes and not fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Not of me,” Hannibal said, loosening his hold, “But of the way you feel with me.”

“I feel nothing but contempt when I’m with you.”

“If that were the case, Little King, your eyes would not be fixed on my lips just now.” 

Will looked away, blushing again, and wrestled out of his hold. He stood up, panting, and showed just enough teeth for Hannibal to know how angry he truly was. 

“You are a piggish and arrogant rake, Ser. I was doing nothing of the kind! You are lucky that I don’t draw a sword and…”

Hannibal grabbed the two swords as he stood, brushing off the flower petals and facing Will head on. He tossed one of the swords to him and was impressed when it was caught easily. 

“As you do not have one fit for battle with the finest steel in the realms I’ve brought two of my own. If you wish to give this piggish rake a lesson in manners then by all means.”

Will blinked. “You...I cannot fight you. Father would have my head.”

Hannibal drew his sword and went into a fighting stance. “I would think he’d be more inclined to have mine if he saw us but you know him best.”

The way Will continued to stare at the sword, then him, and back to the sword was rather amusing for the next several minutes. He had been raised to be a gentleman, most assuredly with visiting royalty, but Hannibal knew the fierce warrior beneath the princely upbringing was desperate to attack the man who’d come to ruin his life. 

“Show me just how fierce you can be, Will.”

Will looked at him again. “You’d let me win.”

“No, I promise you. This will be a fair match. Though perhaps a wager will make you believe more than my words?”

“What kind of wager?”

Hannibal let his sword hang down and he leaned on it. “If you win, I will destroy the marriage treaty and enter into a cease fire for absolutely no compensation.”

Will’s eyes widened. “We both know I won’t win then. You who have had years of experience at swordplay and...what will you get if you win?”

Hannibal went into position again.

“A kiss.”

“You would wager your entire army for a kiss?

“I would wager my entire kingdom for you, Little King. That is how much I want you to be mine.”

He saw Will’s gaze linger on his mouth again and smiled. 

“I will not win. It would be madness to even dream of attempting such a stupid game.”

“Perhaps not but...why waste the opportunity?”

Will looked him in the eyes. “I don’t trust you, King.”

“Yet you are already leaning down to retrieve a much better weapon.”

He stared at the sword for a moment before letting his own fall and taking the larger blade. Hannibal felt like his heart may leap out of his chest as Will took the sword through a spin of his wrist. 

That blade looked so perfect in his hand. 

“This feels...”

“Like it was made for you.” 

Will blushed as he looked up from admiring the sword. “Was it?” 

“No,” Hannibal said, moving his wrist as he played with the sword, “It was not.” 

Will’s disappointment was obvious. “I don’t expect you to---” 

“I have other wedding gifts already made and waiting for you, Little King. That is of course if you do not best me.” 

Hannibal saw a moment of sadness come over Will’s face so quickly that it could have been his own false daydream. Perhaps his Prince had warmed to him just as he’d hoped. 

“If?” Will said, his voice shaking, “When.” 

He smiled. “Then let us begin, Little King. Show me how fierce you are.” 

They spared and fought for what felt like eons, back and forth until he could see the tiredness in Will’s frame. The guards would not allow the heir to be alone for long, especially with him, so he knew letting Will think he had even a chance for too much time would waste his obvious victory. Hannibal let him push back hard enough to fall, the bit of blade knicking his cheek, and when Will’s huffed breath was close enough as they lay in the grass he struck. 

A quick roll he had his Little King under him, cheeks flushed from their bout, and with the blade under Will’s chin he held firm. 

“Do you yield?” 

“Never,” Will panted, trying to catch his breath. 

Hannibal smiled. “Neither do I.” 

The two of them lay there for too long before he heard the telltale sound of horses heading their way. 

“They are coming to rescue you from my clutches, Little King.” 

Will glared at him. “You tricked me.” 

“I did no such thing,” he teased, running his finger across Will’s cheek, “I merely wanted desperately to see you in action…and you did not disappoint. Though I must now take my winnings.” 

“You--” 

Hannibal touched his lips to Will’s softly, barely a touch, and was rewarded with a soft sigh that he would hear in his dreams. He tasted sweet, and felt warm like the sun. Will leaned up to kiss him back for a brief second before the sound of someone shouting made him pull away. 

“Will?!?” 

He moved off Will and straightened himself, grabbing their fallen weapons. “Thank you, Little King. I should hope you will....fight me again. There is plenty of time before the wedding to yet win.” 

Will licked his lips. “I should not allow myself to be alone with you again, Ser.” 

Hannibal smiled as he backed away. “Is that a refusal?” 

He did not answer and Hannibal took off in the opposite direction of his coming guards. 

The smile on his face only grew as he walked, lost in memory of their encounter. 

His Little King had been given a taste of sin. 

He would not be able to stay away. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Hold still, please.” 

Will stared forward and tried not to think about what happened a few days before. The warmth of Hannibal’s lips, if only for that brief second, still lingered in his memory. 

Their sword fight also continued to feature in his daydreams, the ruthlessness clash of blades, and although he should’ve known the King would beat him, Will had felt stronger for those minutes than ever before.

He squeezed his hand tightly just as the tailor pinned the cloth to his wrist. “I beg your pardon, Highness but please  _ hold still. _ ”

Will blushed. “My deepest apologies.” 

Mr. Gorma frowned, mumbled under his breath, and continued. 

His father had requested new dress clothes for him to wear at the ball he would be giving to introduce Hannibal to the wardens and other important figures of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Will had plenty of formal dress things but he’d kept his mouth closed. He’d officially decided to allow this marriage to happen now and there was little reason to argue. Though he was getting a bit annoyed at how long it was taking and how openly. They were in the sitting room, not his own chambers, and despite the guards he felt exposed. 

“How much longer do you—“

The double doors opened and Will froze as Hannibal walked into the room. The Wildling King was without his normal warm fur cloak in a long sleeved white tunic that hung loosely on his frame. His trousers were as tight as always, and Will fought to keep his gaze away. 

“There you are, Little King.” 

“Highness, we tried to tell the King—-“ one of his guards started, but Will looked straight forward again. 

“It’s fine. My intended has every right to see me.” 

The tailor continued to pin the fabric around Will and he tried not to let this interruption matter. 

“I’m certainly glad to know that, Will. You’ve been quite hard to find as of late. Your skill in avoiding me is almost as admirable as your swordplay.”

His cheeks reddened. “I have been busy, as you can see.” 

“Yes,” Hannibal purred, “New dress clothes for the ball that is still weeks away. I wasn’t aware you were in need of more. Do you not have enough already?” 

“It was not my decision, Ser,” Will murmured, scowling at the wall even as Hannibal stood to walk around the room, “My father….” 

“Obedient now, are we? Just days ago you were so perfectly defiant.” 

Will glared as Hannibal walked toward him. “I do as my King tells me.”

He looked at him with amusement. “Soon I will be your King, Will. Are you going to be so obedient then?” 

The heat in Hannibal’s gaze made Will shiver. “I do not intend to be, Ser.” 

“Good,” Hannibal whispered, coming closer now. 

Will stared at Hannibal’s mouth and felt his pants grow tighter. “You do not wish for my obedience?” 

“Never.” 

“What do…” 

“Leave us,” Hannibal growled. 

Mr. Gorma stopped his pinning, and looked at Will with wide eyes. “Highness?” 

“Go,” Will said, feeling lightheaded, “Wait outside the door.” 

Neither of them paid much attention as Mr. Gorma ran out of the room and the minute they were alone Will felt as if time had stopped. 

“Not so frightened to be alone with me anymore, Little King?” 

Will shook his head. “I’m not afraid of you, Ser.” 

Hannibal smiled and put his hand on Will’s cheek. “You’re shaking.” 

“I’m…not afraid.”

“Are you so eager to feel my touch again, Will?” 

“I…” 

He leaned in as Hannibal pulled him closer. “Promise me you will not hide from me again, Little King.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Why did you avoid me, Will?” 

Will licked his lips. “I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

“I don’t…” 

Hannibal’s mouth was so close Will could feel breath on his lips. “If I kiss you now, will you run from me later?”

“No,” Will whispered. 

He smiled and brushed his thumb over Will’s mouth. “Blue.” 

“What?” 

Hannibal stepped back away from him and his gaze traveled down Will’s entire body. 

“I prefer you in blue.” 

Will watched with wide eyes as he turned and left the room. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and frustrated tears filled his eyes. 

What kind of game was the Wildling King playing? 

Mr. Goram’s arrival barely registered as Will tried to make sense of what had just occurred. He’d been so desperate for Hannibal’s touch and yet he’d been denied. How dare Hannibal humiliate him like that? 

Will was shaking with anger as the last few finishing pins occurred, still so occupied with Hannibal’s’ rejection it barely registered that he was free. 

“Highness?” 

He blinked. “What is it?” 

“I’m finished, you can remove the form.” 

Will stepped out of the dress form, his mind still muddled, and Mr. Goram took it gently. 

“If there are any requests other than what your father…” 

“Blue,” Will found himself saying. 

“Blue?”

“I want the entire thing to be blue and….white.” 

Mr. Goram frowned at him. “Your family’s colors are emerald and gold, Highness.” 

“I know,” Will said, “But I want everything to be blue and white. Am I not going to be the one wearing it?” 

“Of course, my Prince. You will match quite nicely with the things your father is having me make for your intended.” 

Will nodded once and headed for the door, confused at why his cheeks were red again as he thought about how happy Hannibal would be to see the colors he wore. Why did he want to please him after his rejection earlier? 

He met his guards and let them escort him out to the courtyard. Mischa and Abigail were sparring, the younger of the two still much more skilled, and Will stepped back to watch them. 

This style of fight was the way of those who would be his people soon and he needed to learn. 

Mischa was focused, sharp, and ruthless as she came at Abigail. Will saw such similarity between her and Hannibal’s styles that he found himself lost in the memory of their own spar just days ago. 

“She will make a strong Queen.”

He stiffened but didn’t turn to look at Hannibal. “She needs to work on her skill with people a bit more first, but I agree.” 

“I fear that’s my doing,” Hannibal murmured, moving closer to him, “I’ve kept her close and away from others most of her life.” 

Will found himself smiling at him. “Is this where I inquire about your past and you dismiss me again?” 

The darkness in Hannibal’s gaze made Will shiver. “I will answer your inquiries, Little King. But not with so many ears present.” 

There was a grunt and a clash that made them both look to the fighting again only to find Mischa down with Abigail above her. Will blinked in surprise. “That was not the outcome I expected.” 

“Do you yield?” Abigail asked, her breath heavy. 

Mischa glared at Will when she answered. “I yield.” 

He looked away. “I think it best if I retire early, Ser. Perhaps my inquiries can be answered another time.” 

“Will.”

Abigail suddenly appeared at Hannibal’s side. “Did you see, Father? I won!” 

Hannibal‘s smile was strained as she launched herself at him . “Yes, I…” 

Mischa continued to glare at Will from across the courtyard, and he felt her hate for him without even a word. He turned to go but Hannibal caught his arm. 

“Will, I’d...like you to meet my daughter Abigail formally. I know the two of you have spent some small moments together but have not had the pleasure of each other’s company.” 

Abigail frowned, looking shy. “Hello.” 

“I think it’s best if I go.” 

“I believe you should stay,” Hannibal said, not letting go of him, “Would you take a walk with us to the clearing where we sparred?”

Will frowned. “I think it would be best if I retired to my chambers. I apologize but—-“ 

Mischa came walking over and stopped just steps from the three of them. “Brolis, may we speak?”

“I was attempting to persuade my intended to join Abigail and I for a walk, Mischa. If I am successful you’re more than welcome to join us.” 

“No, I think I’d rather not.” 

“Is what you need to speak of extremely important?” 

She glared at Will again. “No, it is not.” 

“Well then, let us—-“ 

“I haven’t accepted your invitation, Ser.” 

Abigail smiled. “The Wildling King does not always abide by invitations, Prince Will. A fact you’ll soon come to learn.” 

Will could not help but smile in return. “I think I’m coming to realize that rather quickly, Princess.” 

She shook her head. “I am not a--” 

“You are my daughter,” Hannibal said, reaching for her chin, “And as I am a King that makes you a princess in the eyes of the other kingdoms. Embrace this for the power it has with them, even if the word holds no meaning to you.” 

Will watched the way she gazed at Hannibal with such reverence and trust, and felt oddly warmed by the exchange. Hannibal ran two fingers across her cheek and smiled. 

“No one would expect the princess to be a warrior, now would they?” 

Abigail smiled back. “No, they would not.” 

He hid the smile that came over him when they both looked his way again, though he thought perhaps Hannibal had still seen. “I will not force you to accept the invitation, Little King,” he said softly, “But I would like for you and Abigail to spend some time together. After all….you will soon be her father just as I.” 

Will blinked, surprised. “I...I...I suppose so.” 

Hannibal held out his hand and Will’s heart beat faster at the implication. Many around would see if he took the offered hand, and while walking alone with his intended without an escort was unseemly Abigail’s presence would make things proper. Still he knew the Wildling King had a way of skirting against the rules without breaking them. What was the real reason for this family walk? 

He let out a long breath, wallowed past his doubts, and took Hannibal’s hand. The warmth of him always shook Will to his core. 

Would he be warm all over? 

Will blushed at the thought. 

“Lead the way, Ser,” Will whispered, fighting to keep his voice steady as he looked back at his guards, “At ease. We will walk alone.” 

Hannibal looked back at Will’s guards. “You trust I will not act untoward with you?” 

“I should hope not,” Will said, “Not with Abigail so close.” 

He kissed the top of Will’s hand and smiled wickedly. “Are you warming to me again, Little King?” 

Will rolled his eyes. “It is a walk, Ser, nothing more. Now lead the way before I change my mind.” 

Abigail giggled and they both looked at her. 

“What makes you laugh so happily?” 

“I think, Father,” she said, grinning, “You may truly have met your match. I look forward to seeing him best you.” 

Hannibal turned to gaze at Will again with that same deep longing that seemed as if it were for someone else. “As do I.” 


End file.
